Page 40 of Hunt Me

Stepping back from me, he turns and pulls the door open, and I peer down a set of steep stairs that disappear into the darkness. For the first time, I feel a little nervous, but the feeling quickly fades as Arhe turns and disappears into the shadows.

I don’t know why I do—and I probably shouldn’t—but I trust him with my life. Maybe because he saved me when he could have stood by and watched someone choke the life out of me. Instead, he protected me like somehow my life mattered to him, even though I was a complete stranger.

With the liquid courage to carry me forward, I follow him down, and suddenly, a light blinks on. Reaching the bottom of the steps, the room opens up to what is clearly a basement, though unlike most of them around here, it’s at least partially finished. It has thick stone walls, but that looks like more of a design choice than anything else. The floors are newly installed hardwood, and there are vents in the ceiling pushing cool airout. It smells a little musty and old, but that seems to be part of the charm.

My gaze swivels to the right, where a chest of drawers sits, and then to the center of the room, where there’s a wooden-framed bed with a soft comforter draped over the top. And then, the pièce de résistance, Arhe’s coffin, which is sitting under the ceiling fan. It’s a mahogany color and looks expensive, and the lid on it is closed.

Oh god, is there a body in there? AmIgoing to be the body stuffed in there?

I stop moving, and Arhe turns to look at me.

‘My room,’ he signs, and I nod, not sure if I should stay or flee. I’m not exactly scared, and I knew that Arhe was into coffins and everything, but seeing it up close definitely has me a little shaken. I think it’s time for another question.

I clear my throat. “Why do you have a coffin in here?”

He shrugs again. “I like them.” I’m unable to stop a horrified laugh, and Arhe’s mouth turns down. Oh god, he looks actually upset. “Are you laughing at me?”

I choke back the sound and shake my head. I don’t want to hurt him. I like him way too much, and I have a feeling that people haven’t been very kind to him about his odd hobbies. I take a step closer and slowly reach for him, pressing my hands to his chest again. He seemed to like that before, and when I do it now, he relaxes again.

“I’m sorry. I just…you have to understand.” I pull away, and my hands start to move at the same time as my voice. “I’ve been dealing with a stalker for so long, and I’ve felt in danger for so long, and yet here I am, in a basement with a man I don’t really know and who has a coffin in his room. It’s just…not where I expected to be right now.”

His gaze darkens, but I don’t feel afraid. ‘Your stalker,’ he signs. ‘Was it the same man from the alley?’

I swallow and then offer him a shrug. “I don’t know. I think so, but I didn’t get a good look at him.”

Arhe’s jaw clicks, and he folds his arms across his chest, then lifts them. ‘I will find.’

I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good. “And then what?” I ask.

He says nothing.

“Arhe,” I press. I have no idea if I’m saying his name right, and I don’t think I am because his eyebrow lifts when I try. Whatever, it’s not a name I’ve ever used before, and I’m Deaf. Sue me for getting it wrong. “What will you do if you find him?”

He gives me a wicked smile, and I shiver. “I will bury him in the backyard.”

I let out a laugh at that, but it fades at the serious look on his face. Okay, yeah. Maybe some things are better left unsaid and Arhe’s secrets left buried. But the idea that he would do that for me—that somehow I matter enough—sends want skittering down my spine and straight to my dick. It thickens, and I bite my bottom lip, and he wets his own in response.

My cock twitches a little more in my pants, and I take a step back toward him. His head tilts as I lay a hand on his chest, right over his thumping heart.

“I want you,” I murmur.

His eyes grow hooded. “I want you too, little rabbit.”

His words are rough and dangerous, spoken in the back of his throat, hard for me to pick up, but the bits I do are like a growl, and fuck, I’m even harder now. “I like your voice.”

My fingers curl into his shirt, and I tug him a little closer to me. He comes willingly, his own hands landing on my waist. “You can hear it?” he asks.

I give a single, short nod. “Mostly. Yes.” I trace a touch over his mouth, and he chases my fingers with a nip, though he doesn’t catch them. His face goes soft again, and he traces asingle finger down the side of my neck, then around to the front of my throat.

“I like yours.”

His head ducks, and he drags his nose across my pulse point, breathing in heavily as my hands drift into his thick locks. I twist my fingers, tugging on his curls when his teeth scrape against my sensitive skin. My entire body is a live wire, sparking, igniting. I feel dangerous and on a knife’s edge.

He lets out a growl so low I can only feel it rumbling against me, and then his lips hover over mine. His fingers skate down my lower back and grab onto my ass, and he squeezes roughly.

A moan slips out, and I arch into him, feeling his hard cock brush against my hip. “Arhe,” I groan, and his head pulls back.

‘Say that again,’ he signs. The look on his face is not sexy. It’s confused.